The Drag
by Gooblygoo
Summary: Gregory Lestrade dragged Mycroft Holmes out of a state banquet for a quicky. The fall-out of it is unexpected. Series of asks on Willow's Tumblr originally.


"My apologies for the hurried exit we made yesterday, my Lord," Mycroft Holmes stood tensely in one of the visitation rooms of the Palace, "I'm afraid my partner was really quite insistent we go home last night." He could see his superiors were less than impressed with his excuse, but he drove on. He knew for a fact one of the secretaries had just gotten married last spring;

"You know how it is - newlyweds." He was not impressed at Gregory Lestrade for dragging him out of the function.

* * *

"Gregory Lestrade, I am not impressed with your recently acquired behaviour towards me," Mycroft boomed from the kitchen. His partner was sitting in the living room, balancing a cup of tea on one knee and a pile of folders on the other. He slid down further for a better view of the TV, only the top of his greying head now visible to Mycroft. "Hmmhm," he answered.

"You dragging me out of Buckingham Palace.." Mycroft reminded him. Lestrade looked up over the back of the couch with a cheeky grin:

"If you say you didn't like that, I know you're lying."

* * *

"Why is your boss trying to get in touch with Sherlock directly now?" John sat in the back of a black car, Mycroft across from him, "he doesn't like it, you know."

"There was a situation," Mycroft said diplomatically, "concerning Gregory and myself at a state banquet." John looked at him, his face not displaying any sign of recognition for the situation.

"Gregory Lestrade dragged me away from a state banquet for a quicky," Mycroft ground out. John was unable to keep back a bark of laughter.

* * *

'Make him stop SH'

Mycroft woke up to the text and was immediately and painfully aware of the situation that had caused it. Lestrade was lying next to him, satisfied in his sleep and blissfully unaware of the consequences of his actions. This was getting absurd, it had been weeks since the banquet and his boss still refused any form of contact. Mycroft threw his phone on the night stand.

"You're going in to apologise," he murmured at his half-asleep partner.

"Mmmhm," Lestrade huffed and he pulled Mycroft back into the mattress.

* * *

"Oh Greg!" Mrs. Hudson stopped him on the steps to 221B with a victorious expression on her face and her hands clasped together.

"Yes?" Lestrade replied, trying very hard not to sound like a teenager caught coming home after curfew.

"You really should ask Mycroft to drop by a little more often, dear. I think Sherlock," she whispered the detective's name and pointed at the ceiling, "he might need it."

"Why?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, Mr. Holmes's boss comes by these days and I don't think they get along."

Lestrade hesitated and said he didn't know.

"That's OK, dear, busy men like yourself and Mycroft. It slips the mind sometimes. But it's what we need, isn't it. Family? Now, go up quickly," Mrs. Hudson said pleasantly and she disappeared into 221A.

Why would Mycroft's superior suddenly do legwork? He dreaded it even more than Mycroft did. Surely, he wasn't still mad about the banquet thing. Not mad enough to cut Mycroft off? Surely, his partner has a function that operates above those politics.

* * *

Over their weekly pint of lager, Lestrade finally mustered up the courage to ask John.

"I'm pretty sure the man is jealous. A beautiful man, Greg, who wouldn't..?" John trailed off. Maybe they'd had a few more beers than Lestrade remembered. He looked up at the clock and found it slightly out of focus.

"I should probably go console the man, then," he murmured to himself.

"Only one way to solve that problem," John said off-handedly.

"Yea," Lestrade answered and he didn't particularly mind.

* * *

"Mycroft," he caught his partner in the hallway and dragged him into his office the next day. The government had slept at his office that night.

"The dragging, Gregory," Mycroft tried very hard to sound annoyed, but he mostly just looked and sounded exhausted as he slowly swept his hands over the lapels of his coat to straighten them out.

"So you're cut off from work because of the banquet,"Lestrade got straight to the point.

"The quicky," Mycroft corrected him. He stood imperceptibly straighter, "we're at _your _work now, though. My turn."

"'So please accept my sincerest apologies and I hope you understand that this situation was out of Mr. Holmes's hands'," Lestrade read from his screen, "good?" He swivelled his chair around to face his partner - with their trousers down they looked like a sorry sight.

A giggle caught in Lestrade's throat, "I can't believe you made me do this first."

"You'll want to take a nap afterwards."

"Promises."

"It sounds very eloquent, Greg. Email that, and get over here before someone walks in."

* * *

"You stopped fighting with your employer," Sherlock said from his chair. Mycroft eyed him up carefully, his umbrella loosely held in one hand - just for show because it was warm outside.

"I never started a fight, Sherlock." His younger brother cast him a glance.

"Gregory apologised and all is well again," Mycroft said. The email had been all he needed. The slightly suspicious invite for coffee and a matinee had been less welcome, but Lestrade had waved them off anyway.


End file.
